She Of The Field

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Her stripes will never be white-washed
Her rudbeckia sun
Will never be tilled under
Love!
What cheapness have you done?

Your patch of earth, a briar field
Tall thistle lines your way
When beauty comes to ask you
Dear!
What answer will you say?

Little Light

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Ought I bake a cake with this
One I whip up on the fly
A pretty thing to be consumed
Ultimately?

Do I don the corduroy
Deep thinking, feigned or actual
With elbows patched so scholarly
Egotistically!

Shall I sit alone with this
As ancient wisdom would advise
Perhaps eternally, but seek
Tranquility.

Or will I simply walk with you
In sweet-smart cameraderie
Joining hands from East to West
Intimately….

At The Door

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You’re going to guide you to truth

Step now into the absolute 
With open eyes 
Fling far your wishbone
For what virtue
Demands you
Walk blind in the grey

Stutter-step and stiff-arm
Nay-say all you need
Wrestle with doubt and despair 
But befriend and deal kindly with time
There’s a lifespan to learn
And eternity to spend